


Let Big Boys Be Little Spoons

by stevesnosebump



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Body Dysmorphia, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Spooning, little spoon steve, ww2 stucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevesnosebump/pseuds/stevesnosebump
Summary: Adjusting to his new body and Captain America persona has been a struggle for Steve. Bucky wants to take care of him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 17
Kudos: 149





	Let Big Boys Be Little Spoons

**Author's Note:**

> Every day I log on to tumblr.com and yell "Steve is obviously the little spoon! so what if he's big and beefy? let big boys be little spoons!" and my followers go "ok, sav, please stop yelling at us." so here I am with a fic explaining why I am right and anyone who disagrees is wrong.

Steve, as much as he hated it, was always used to being small. Trips to Coney Island were always filled with Bucky teasing _”sure you’re tall enough to ride?”_ (which always made his stubborn self growl a “‘course I am!” back, was the whole reason why he rode the Cyclone despite the queasiness in his stomach). He always had to stand on his tiptoes and stretch his arms out to reach the top shelf before pouting and climbing up on the counter or pulling a chair up (which Bucky _always_ disapproved of, snatched him back and grabbed whatever was needed himself). 

Although being so small was a major point of contention for him, it was familiar for Steve, all he’d known his entire life, until he got the serum injected. 

He doesn’t have much time— _any_ , actually—to recover from his entire body being morphed, the head-spinning realization that scrawny little Steve is no longer scrawny or little, before he’s being thrust into battle, the first fight in which he has the upper hand against his opponent. 

He also doesn’t have any time to get used to receiving so much attention, from women and men alike. Women find him attractive now (same face, same personality, but with the type of body they think a man should have, a body worthy of lusting for), they reach out to touch a bare tit, use his tie to yank him into passionate kisses he’s too shy to free himself from, and give him _looks_ whenever he walks into a room. Men see him as a threat now, treat him with the respect they’d previously made him feel unworthy of. This adoration and respect is essentially what he’d always wanted, back when he was small and chronically ill, but now that he has it, it just doesn’t feel right. 

He’s a captain now, has the decorated uniform to prove it, leads the Howling Commandos through dangerous missions and calls all the big shots. It’s an important job, and he’s glad he gets to do it, to help protect his country and fight the good fight, but...it’s tough. He’s not used to being so _important._ He’s used to having to fight to be heard, but now when he opens his mouth to speak, the room falls quiet and people wait, staring at him expectantly with beady eyes. He should be glad, but this unfamiliar territory is just so uncomfortable for a man who spent his whole life being treated as a little boy, as _less than._

Bucky notices—of course he does. He’s known Steve for so long, sometimes it feels like Steve is an extension of himself. So he notices that Steve’s eyebrows are furrowed more often than not now, and he notices that beyond that tough exterior, the uncertainty still shows clear as day in his eyes. 

It’s particularly poignant today, as Steve quickly fills Peggy in on some details from their most recent mission, discomfort so obvious in his stiff posture (shoulders tight, arms hanging unsurely by his sides, fists clenched nervously) that Bucky can see it from damn near a mile away. He waits until Peggy leaves, watches Steve still standing so _stiffly_ even though he should be able to turn off the captain persona and relax now.  
“Sarge,” Steve curtly greets when he sees him approaching. It hurts Bucky’s heart a little. 

“Bucky,” he corrects. “It’s getting late. Maybe we should turn in early tonight.” 

Steve lets out a breath and, at Bucky’s gentle reminder, tries to relax his body. He hadn’t realized he was so tense, almost feels embarrassed that Bucky was able to tell right away. 

He nods and follows Bucky to their shared tent—they got lucky in this sense, they get to share a tent together and folks don’t think too much of it, figure it’s an obvious pairing since they’re friends and lived together before the war, so they don’t get any odd looks or malicious whispers.

“‘M tired, Buck,” Steve slurs, sleepiness just now starting to hit him. He gets tired a little more easily now, due to the stress of being thrust into a position of high importance without time to adjust. It’s not a huge issue, it’s not like he’s developed narcolepsy and is a useless leader, it’s just a small side effect that he has to deal with, hasn’t mentioned it to anyone, not even Bucky (although Bucky has absolutely noticed). 

“I know. I’d be tired too if I was running around trying to save the world—”

“Buck—” 

“Without any breaks—”

“Buck—”

“Constantly forgetting that I’m still a human being.” 

“Quit it,” Steve grumbles, sitting on the edge of the cot they share (the room has two, but they really only need one. They just muss up the other cot to make it look like they sleep separately. But that’s their little secret…). 

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he retorts, coming closer until he’s standing in front of Steve. “Or let me take care of you sometimes. I miss the days when you let me do that,” he adds, gently undoing Steve’s tie and tossing it on the bed next to Steve. 

They’re both quiet for a moment, lost in their own thoughts as Bucky continues slowly undressing Steve, undoing the buttons one by one, watching Steve’s face (a little blank, lost in thought as he chews on a corner of his lower lip) before he moves on to the next, listening to their steady breaths. 

“I hate this,” Steve suddenly confesses. “This is all I’ve ever wanted and I hate it. And I know hate’s a strong word and my ma always taught me to be grateful, but I really do _hate_ this.” They both begin tearing up a little, but Bucky stays quiet and still and patiently waits for Steve to finish, even when he wants to wipe the tears off Steve’s cheeks and kiss the bump on his nose. 

“I knew things would change, but...I didn’t expect to become some fucking hero overnight, Buck, and I didn’t realize how differently I’d be treated,” he’s fully crying now, sobs shaking his shoulders and nose starting to run. 

Bucky breaks then, pulls Steve into a hug without any hesitation, holds him and allows him to bury his face in his shirt and wet it with tears and snot. 

“He’s taking over my life,” Steve cries out, muffled by Bucky’s shirt. Bucky doesn’t even have to ask who _he_ is, knows that Steve is referring to the Captain America persona that he can never truly turn off.

“I know,” he uses a hand to rub at Steve’s back as he continues to sob, uses the other to cradle the back of Steve’s head as he presses a kiss to the top of his head. “For what it’s worth, he doesn’t matter to me, not off the battlefield. You’re still my Stevie. ‘Til the end of the line,” he presses another kiss to his head, listens as Steve catches his breath before finally saying it back. 

If Steve’s brain was functioning normally, he would wonder how Bucky knew exactly what he needed to hear, but right now he just allows himself to be held, to show vulnerability and be cared for. It’s the first time he’s let his guard down since he was injected with the serum, the first time he’s allowing himself to be Steven Grant Rogers instead of Captain America, the first time he’s turned the persona fully off. His body finally starts to release all the tension he’s been holding for far too long. 

Although being held by Bucky is helping immensely, it’s still not enough, not quite. 

“Buck,” he says in a near whisper, lifting his head so he can make eye contact, hoping that his eyes will say what his voice can’t. 

“I know,” Bucky assures him for the second time that night. He brings his hands to cup Steve’s face, using his thumbs to gently wipe away the remaining tears. Steve sniffles, watches as his boyfriend continues his earlier task of unbuttoning Steve’s shirt. When Bucky finally gets the button down off him, Steve lifts his arms so he can take the undershirt off, too. As soon as the shirt comes off, Steve is pulling Bucky into a desperate kiss, one that is by no means the kind of sweet and gentle kiss described in fairytales, but that Bucky is happy to reciprocate anyway.

“Steve, Steve,” he chuckles into the kiss when Steve starts grabbing at him, getting a little rough. “Lemme take care of you, huh?” he presses their foreheads together, giving the both of them time to catch a breath before continuing. “Help me take this off,” and as soon as he says it, Steve’s hands are flying to Bucky’s tie, making quick work of untying it and then quickly moving to the buttons of his shirt. 

“What’s the rush for? We’ve got time,” Bucky reminds him, gently placing his hands over his boyfriend’s. Steve mumbles an unnecessary apology, but brightens up again when Bucky kisses his forehead (a reminder that he’s loved, that Bucky isn’t mad at him for being in a rush, that he’s understood and safe) and picks up where he left off, gently removing Bucky’s shirt and marveling at his body when he removes the undershirt, as if his own isn’t ten times more impressive (his body will always be so damn impressive to Steve, perfectly lean but _human,_ a body that looks capable and strong and is familiar to Steve). 

Bucky brings him back to the present by pulling him into another kiss and placing Steve’s hands on his belt buckle, wordlessly telling him to take it off, which he does eagerly. When he tosses the belt aside and reaches to unbutton Bucky’s pants, his hands are grabbed again and he’s gently pushed onto the bed, letting out a whine that Bucky only chuckles at. 

He watches as Bucky places his knees on the bed, leaning forward until he’s hovering over Steve, hands on either side of his head. His head is already starting to spin, already intoxicated by his boyfriend’s familiar scent and warm presence. 

“Shh,” Bucky coos, knowing exactly how Steve is feeling right now. He trails kisses along Steve’s jawline and down his neck, listens to his soft moans as he continues travelling down until he reaches a collarbone. He gently kisses the skin there before he starts to suck, confident the hickey will show for a while even though it’ll heal much faster than bruises heal on the average person. Even if it doesn’t show for long, Steve will still love the reminder that he’s Bucky’s (not that he needs it, but he still likes to see Bucky’s marks on his skin, likes knowing that Bucky is the only person that can take care of him like this). 

Once he’s satisfied with the hickey, he gently kisses the bruised skin before pulling back from Steve’s body (much to Steve’s dismay, if his pout is any indication) and gently removing his belt. He taps Steve’s hip, a signal that wordlessly tells him to lift up so Bucky can take his pants off. He obliges eagerly, but stops Bucky when he attempts to remove his underwear with a shy, “your turn.” Bucky takes it in stride, quickly stands and tugs his pants and underwear down before rejoining Steve on the bed, not even giving Steve time to admire the view before he pulls Steve’s underwear down. 

“Hand me—” before he can even finish his sentence, Steve hands him the container of Vaseline they keep tucked away for moments like this. 

“Good boy,” he praises, smirking to himself when he hears Steve’s needy whine. 

Knees on the bed, placed between Steve’s legs so they can maintain eye contact throughout, he coats two fingers in a thicker-than-necessary coat of lube just to see Steve squirm. 

_“Buck,”_ he whines, pouting when Bucky hushes him for what feels like the thousandth time that night. 

_Finally_ Bucky presses a finger in, taking it slow and being gentle even though he knows Steve is ready for him. 

“Gotta turn your mind off sometimes, darlin’. Stop being so hard on yourself,” Steve whines in response, tries to reach out to pull Bucky close to him, needing to be held by him. Bucky understands what he needs, of course he does, but for now he just hushes Steve with a gentle “hush, doll.” 

They look into one another’s eyes as Bucky opens him up, steadily breathing as both their minds turn off, nothing else mattering in this moment. 

“Buck,” Steve gasps out, voice raspy, as he reaches out in another bid to pull Bucky close. 

This time, Bucky obliges, gently pulling his fingers out and lying down on his side next to Steve, tapping at a hip to get Steve to lie on his side, too. Now they’re spooning, with Steve as the little spoon, a position they’ve both always loved. Being the little spoon has always been so comforting to Steve, who has always loved being wrapped in Bucky’s arms. Steve hasn’t been held like this since the night before Bucky shipped out to England, so he privately worries that he just won’t fit like this, that they’ll have to switch and he’ll have to be the big spoon instead—which wouldn’t really be the end of the world, since Steve is okay with being the big spoon sometimes and holding Bucky close, but...he wants to be the little spoon more often than not, wants to feel safe in Bucky’s arms. Fine, maybe it _would_ be the end of the world for Steve, would make him wish he hadn’t been so stubborn and had just stayed home, faithfully waiting for Bucky to return home, would make him hunt for some kind of reversal serum to make him small and sickly again. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of Bucky’s arms pulling him close, and he realizes he was brooding over _nothing._ Steve’s body still molds perfectly to Bucky’s body, like they’re two puzzle pieces made to fit together no matter what. 

He lets out a pleased sigh, so relieved he almost misses how Bucky chuckles and kisses his cheek before grabbing the lube again, slicking up before gently pressing into Steve. 

“Steve,” he rasps in his ear, pulling Steve even closer to him, both men needing more even though their bodies are already as close as they can possibly be. 

He presses a sweet kiss to Steve’s shoulder, takes it slow and gentle because he knows that’s what they need, despite Steve’s silent pleas for more. 

Steve cries out when Bucky hits his prostate, is only hushed by Bucky grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Without breaking their kiss, Bucky reaches around to grab Steve’s cock, making him moan into the kiss. He strokes it gently, matching the pace of his own hips to bring Steve to a blissful peak, cum streaking Steve’s chest and spilling onto Bucky’s hand, only the tiniest drops landing on the bed sheets. 

Steve whines out something barely coherent, a short word that Bucky assumes must just be a gasp of _“Buck,”_ since that’s all Steve has really been saying tonight, constantly mumbling it like a litany or desperate prayer. 

“I’ve got you,” Bucky reminds him, lazily wiping the cum on his hand on Steve’s stomach, never stopping the rhythm of his hips. He feels Steve wrap an arm around the back of his neck, tugging his head down for another kiss, and Bucky moans into it as he cums inside of Steve, filling him up. 

“You alright?” Bucky asks, slowly pulling out of Steve. 

Steve nods, mumbles out a “uh huh,” as he drops his hand from the back of Bucky’s neck. 

They lie like that for a while, Steve focusing on Bucky’s arms wrapped around him as they both try to steady their breathing.

Bucky is the first to break the silence, rasping an earnest “I love you,” into Steve’s ear before kissing his cheek. 

Steve turns his head, makes steady eye contact before he says it back, sealing the statement with a kiss. 

He wants to thank Bucky, wants to tell him that he never thought he’d be able to feel _normal,_ both before the serum and now with it, but Bucky has always made him feel normal, has never once treated him differently or made him feel weird about his body the way other people always have. He knows Bucky won’t accept a thank you, though, so he opts for another kiss and another heartfelt, “I love you, Buck.” 

Bucky smiles at him, bright and sincere, kisses the little mole on Steve’s cheek and says, “I love you, Stevie.” 

They’ll have to wake up early tomorrow morning, before the sun is even truly shining, to clean up the mess they’ve made, but for now it doesn’t matter. Right now all that matters is Bucky’s arms wrapped around Steve and how, for the first time in _weeks,_ Steve looks fully relaxed and content and like _Steve,_ not Captain America. 

_Mission accomplished,_ Bucky thinks to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this fic I'm kinda nervous about it but I like it and my sweet boys are so sweet...


End file.
